The Werewolf and Vampire
by VivaLaRevolution
Summary: Arthur was once a user of magic, a wizard, until one fateful night he was turned into a Vampire. Now he's had enough of this life and ventures into the wolves territory to find an end. He didn't count on the Alpha of the wolves Alfred Jones being quite so merciful. Join Arthur, Alfred and their friends through the twists and turns of this tale. Human names and some OOC.
1. Chapter 1

UKUS Fan fiction

The Werewolf and Vampire

Chapter One

The northern territory belonged to the wolf tribe. It was a land enshrouded by forests, abundant with life, ideal for a healthy and growing wolf tribe. Vampires were not permitted, hadn't been permitted for years. So why was it that Alfred Jones, Alpha of the wolves, was staring down at the prone form of what was very distinctively a vampire. Alfred turned to his Beta.

"Don't suppose you have any ideas about this?"

Ludwig, his tall, blond, ample muscled beta gave him a sardonic look. Alfred couldn't have asked or a better Beta in all the world, but often he had the feeling that Ludwig thought he was a bit of an idiot.

"It's a vampire"

"Noooo. Really? That certainly never crossed my mind. What do you suppose we should do with him was my actual meaning."

"Well why don't we take him back to our camp? Feed him cupcakes and sugar drops? Then, why don't we have him bring all those other murderous sons of bitch vampires down round our ears, and all have a lovely garden party?"

Alfred straightened up looking his Beta strait in the eye. "Now listen very carefully Ludwig. You start getting lippy with me an my fist'll find your face. Got it?"

Ludwig looked sheepishly down at his feet, an odd look for a werewolf, tilting his head slightly to expose his throat in reverence to his Alpha. He cleared his throat in panic. "What I meant to say was that vampires have brought us nothing but trouble in the past, and being how they tend to kill anything and everything in their path I just thought it might be a good idea if perhaps we were to escort him back to the boundary and have him go on his merry way.

And this was why Alfred put up with Ludwig's occasional scornful outbursts.

"That seems like a mighty fine idea" He leaned down and sat on his haunches, eyes fixed on the face of the vampire. He was, like all vampires, very attractive with blond hair that unusual for a vampire was a mess and caked in mud. His eyes seemed to be running backwards and forwards under his lids like he was in a nightmare. Alfred leaned nearer. The vampire's breath was coming in hitches and starts. His skin, now that he was looking closer, had a waxy complexion that looked tight and stretched across his face. "He looks sick."

Ludwig peered over his shoulder.

"So?"

Alfred shrugged. "So nothing I guess. Let's get this blood sucker out of my territory."

Arthur was lost in the past. Lost in a sea of blood and pain. His. He seemed to be unaware of anything other than pain and the face above him. Lips stained red with his own precious life blood that even now was pouring out of him with every torturous beat of his heart, robbing him of strength and courage. Metallic and cloying fear seeped into every fibre of his being. He felt hands tighten on his forearms, talons shredding the skin, pulling him closer to that mouth. That cavernous mouth, yearning for another taste of his life force. Incapable of screaming any more, the only sound to mark the terror of feeling this creature forcing his veins to yield yet more blood was a small pitiful moan. Wetness had gathered and dried a long time ago at the corner of his eyes, there was nothing left for him to give. He couldn't give any more. Yet still it was taken.

A stillness was overcoming him. His heart beat barely registered any more. Breathing had become an impossibility. He knew that his time had come and soon this nightmare would be over. Fear had been replaced by exhaustion and inevitability. He felt the creature pull away, the amber glowing orbs of the creature's eyes staring down into his face. He closed his own eyes not wanting the last thing he saw on this earth to be that of his murderer. Instead he tried to remember what the sun looked like, how it felt to a warm again. Floating on that feeling he started to fall away…

And woke to the chocking sensation of rich and warm liquid being forced down his throat a hand massaging his neck, compelling him to swallow. Pressure was at the back of his head, a weight on his mouth.

"Drink deep"

The voice was all around him. Commanding and compelling him to obey, and to his utter horror he was powerless to refuse. Yielding to that voice he swallowed, and drank deeply.

"Remind me again why we're doing this"

"You ask me that one more time Gilbert, and my foot'll find your ass"

"Sorry boss. I'm just confused why we aint just killing this blood sucker and being done with it."

Alfred looked over his shoulder at the albino werewolf behind him.

"Because I said so."

Whenever Alfred ended an argument with that statement the wolves all knew that was the end of it. It didn't help that Alfred sympathised with their feelings. Vampires and werewolves had been enemies for centuries, and he wasn't quite so keen to get this personal with one. Said vampire was currently slung over Ludwig's shoulder and didn't look to be waking up any time soon.

Gilbert pushed forward again. "Why d'ya think he was this far into our territory any ways boss?"

"Don't know Gil. Don't care either, just as long as he's gone by tomorrow."

This too was troubling Alfred. It could have been that the vampire was plain stupid and hadn't realised where he was walking into. Yeah right! Could have been he was looking for a fight. Considering his condition this was also unlikely. Was he running from something? Wolf territory wouldn't have been the smartest move to make.

He peered over at the vampire. Dirty and unconscious, he didn't look that frightening. Vampires had that way of deceiving you. Sweet and innocent looking, until the blood lust overcame them. Then the fangs came out, and that innocent façade dropped. Werewolves on the other hand, didn't pretend to be anything than what they were. Predators. True they'd become more domesticated in recent years, but they still felt the pull of the moon and the need to hunt. All wolves once they were full grown were tall and broadly muscular. With great emotion features of the wolf would show through. Eyes, ears or claws. It was even known for a wolf under great stress to break out in fur. Wolves as opposed to vampires were born, not made. Werewolves had been around a lot longer than vampires, though both were considered immortal to a certain extent. Vampires had popped up several hundred years ago, taking their recruits from the human nobility, integrating themselves quickly among the ruling classes. No one really knew where or how they had come into existence and frankly Alfred wasn't gonna start philosophising now. All he knew was that a few hundred years' ago, as opposed to several, they'd decided to encroach on the wolves territory which once upon a time had been significantly larger. It was thought that they had even tried to trespass on the wizard's land. Bad, bad ideas'. Many wolves and vampires had died before an uneasy, not so official truce had come about. Basically this meant, no more killing, keep to your own territory, if you leave me alone I'll leave you alone kind of thing. For the most part it had worked out, so Alfred would be dammed if he was gonna be the one to break it.

There was a thump behind him. He turned to see Ludwig standing over the vampire, having just unceremoniously dropped him.

"I'm not carrying him!"

Alfred growled low in his throat.

"Why the hell not? You were fine a minuet ago"

Ludwig looked at him.

"That was before he started waking up!"

The three of them stood around the dirty vampire. At their feet he twitched and groaned slowly coming up through the fog and darkness.

**Hello!**

**Welcome to my first ever FanFiction. This is kind of a set up chapter, I'm hoping to get to the heart of the characters in the next one. Like I said it's my first piece of writing so comments are greatly appreciated, good and bad. (Just please be gentle) **

**Thank You xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello.**

**This chapter is kind of aiming to put some of the characters back on the right track after they didn't quite find their groove in the last one. Hopefully the chapters will be getting longer as the story progresses. Apologies if some of the characters aren't what you're expecting them to be. Some of them are very clear in my head and some aren't so much but I hope I can correct it all out for you.**

**Comments still appreciated**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter Two

Arthur came too rather ungracefully. Aches and pains blossomed all over his body and as always the gnawing hunger clawed at his insides. He could hear faint voices above him. Low voices, defiantly male and not ones that he recognised. Keeping his eyes closed he tried to remember what had brought him to this place. He remembered his fight with Antonio. He couldn't remember what it had been about but he'd run far, very far he recalled. Right to the edge of the territory. Then what? Then? Then, he'd kept going. He suppressed a groan. Yeah that's right, all the way in.

He'd argued with Antonio about his feeding habits. It was none of the Spaniards damm business when or what he ate. If only the obnoxious prat had left well alone, he wouldn't have stormed off in the first place. Turned out he'd been right but Arthur would never admit it. Right in the middle of wolf territory he'd collapsed due to blood withdrawal and now could be surrounded by any number of the filthy beasts.

Hadn't that been the point though? End the hunger, once and for all? Why was he even worried?

Because, no one really wants to die.

A toe nudged is leg. A toe!

"Oi! Stop pretending to be asleep! We know you're awake, you've been making faces for a while now."

Prying open his eyes Arthur looked up into the eyes of three werewolves. Each uglier, dirtier and undoubtedly dumber than the last.

Bloody wolves.

One wolf, the ugliest of the lot, crouched down.

"Why you in my territory vamp?"

Arthur didn't move or attempt to get up. Instead he chose to smirk and lock gazes with the wolf.

"Your territory? Oh, yes! Love what you've done with the place, tre woodland chic! I'm thinking of getting something similar done in my back garden. Though I think I might leave out the three smelly wolves"

The wolf turned a rather unhealthy shade of beetroot. One of the other wolves stifled a laugh, causing the third to give him one of the dirtiest looks he had ever seen, and he lived with Francis Bonnefoy. An individual who was considered an artist when it came to scowling, particularly if the receiver was Arthur himself.

Wolf one spread his hand, sharp claws extended from his fingertips.

"My authority has been questioned one too many times today, and my patience is wearing thin. Dangerously thin, you understand blood sucker?"

"I understand your having some performance issues maybe?" Arthur smiled flashing fang. "It's hard trying to be a commanding figure isn't it? Does tend to run along the lines of an immutable reputation doesn't it? Ha-ha, running. That's what you dogs do isn't it? Run? Perhaps if your kind stopped pissing up trees or chasing after sticks we'd take you more seriously."

Growls echoed round the clearing from three different throats.

Perhaps he was still suicidal after all. And wasn't that just hilariously funny. He could hear choking gasps from somewhere near by getting louder and louder. The wolves were looking down at him with their funny ugly faces, pulling stupid expressions on their stupid mugs.

"I think we got a crazy one boss."

A sigh. "Just my rotten luck"

Still laughing Arthur was hoisted back onto the shoulders of a smelly wolf. Unable to lift a finger against the indignant behaviour, he fell back into the open arms of darkness.

* * *

A little while later the vampire woke again. This time it was Gilbert who dropped him in the dirt.

"You know you could be giving him brain damage doing that." Alfred scolded, worry lines creasing his forehead.

"Do we actually care?" Gilbert retorted, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Alfred shrugged. "Good point."

"Reckon he's already got a few screws loose Boss."

"A fair assumption."

"Should we be worried?"

"Worried? Worried about what?"

At that moment there came a cutting remark from the floor.

"If you've quite finished. I'd very much appreciate it if you didn't keep dropping me."

The flaky hysteria from before seemed to have disappeared from his voice. Green eyes glowered up at Alfred from beneath his mop of hair.

Why was he even bothering with this bloodsucker? Alfred doubted that his being in the territory had anything to do with vampire/werewolf relations and probably more to do with personal reasons, and that made him feel sad.

Without warning and with unexpected tenderness he found himself asking the vampire. "What's your name?"

Surprise flashed across all four faces in varying degrees.

The vampire was the first to recover. "And what would you do with such information?"

Alfred took up his usual position down on his haunches across from the vampire.

"Perhaps we could act civilised for a change?" He gestured to his second in command. "This is Ludwig. Just Ludwig, my Beta. My usually very good at following orders and not arguing with me Beta." He winked up at Ludwig before moving on to Gilbert. "This ghost is Gilbert Beilschmidt, who's usually quite capable of ignoring my orders on any given day."

Alfred placed his hand over his own heart.

"And my name is Alfred F Jones, alpha of the territory in which you now reside."

They all waited for a reply.

It seemed the vampire was trying to choose his next words carefully.

Birds chirped in the trees, and crickets wove their tunes in the long grass. Still they waited for a reply.

Until finally.

"Well that's all nice and good, but what in the blazes are you doing carrying me round the woods like a sack of potatoes?" Hesitancy was written in subtle tones on his face.

It was Alfred's turn to pause. He felt tension was warranted for the moment.

"The reason my friends and I are carrying you round like a sack of potatoes as you so eloquently put it is because we want you out of the territory, and by not in the territory I mean I don't want any vamps to come looking for you when I've got me and mine to look out for." A surge of protectiveness for his pack rose as he raised a questioning eye brow at the vampire. Daring him to make a remark.

It was suddenly like looking at a marble statue, hard to read.

"So you're just trying to take me back?"

"I'm just trying to get you the hell off my land!"

Confusion furrowed the vampire's brow.

"You're not going to kill me?"

Alfred sighed in frustration. He wondered how long the vampire had been without blood to be this slow and confused. Patience was not at the top of the list of his virtues.

"No, I'm not going to kill you." He held up his little finger. "Pinkie promise?"

The vampire seemed to pick up on his mocking tones judging from the look he was being given.

"Still don't understand it is all."

Alfred tilted his head, much in the same way a puppy looks at their master when they've done or said something funny.

"Maybe it's because I'm a hero!"

The vampire snorted.

"Hero huh, there's a rare thing."

Then the strangest thing happened. The vampire smiled at him. A proper smile. Not mocking or sneering, it was gone almost as quickly as it had come, but a smile none the less.

"Alright. My name's Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

* * *

It seemed Arthur wasn't very good at suicide. Far from banking on a pack of blood crazy animals to tear him to shreds, he'd found a bunch of bickering dogs. Domesticated dogs at that. He'd even given them names, refusing to think of them by the ones that Alfred had given him. Tall blond, taller blond and pale face seemed fitting enough names for them. After they'd asked him if he could walk yet, to which he'd replied that unless they were willing to open a vein for him it didn't look likely. There it seemed the wolves' courtesy ran out, and they had continued. Arthur was currently doing his sack impression over the shoulder of Taller blond. Ludwig? The other blond, Alfred. Never carried him, he supposed that was because he was he Alpha. When he'd woken the second time, more lucid, he'd thought it strange the biggest wasn't Alpha. Usually in wolf pack's it was the strongest that made Alpha. Something about defending territory or some such.

Unable to lift his head to look at the Alpha directly, Arthur closed his eyes, recalling his likeness in his mind. There had defiantly been something there. Something had stood out during their interaction. He thought back. Dazzling blue eyes stared back at him. His one redeeming feature perhaps. That and his smile, maybe?

No.

It was when he'd talked about protecting him and his. There had been a passion there not seen by Arthur in a long time. Wolves were all hot and quick burning tempers. Whereas vampires were a slow simmering brew. Many alluded vampires to being like ice, but they were really more like embers in their emotions. While it might take a while to heat up their passions they usually lasted years or decades.

The pressure in his head was growing worse and worse. If he didn't get blood soon he'd likely fall into a blood craze. Something he had only let himself stoop to once. He shuddered at the memory of the monster he had become in those moments of pure hunger. Those moments when reason and logic had been lost to his disease. When he had caused so much blood shed and fear, tearing through a small village with the force of a hurricane, but leaving far more disaster in his wake. In an attempt to not be a monster, he had unleased the worse one imaginable. The truly terrible thing being that at the time, he had enjoyed every minute of it. Arthur liked to think he was different to the other vampires in his nest. He didn't partake of human blood as often and he found he was able to last longer on blood than the others. This was probably because he hadn't been human when he was turned unlike Francis and Antonio who has both been recruited from human nobility. He didn't take any pleasure in feeding either. It always made him want to gag whenever he felt hot blood on his tongue. But dammit if his fangs weren't growing at the mere thought of it. Cursing to himself he just hoped they would reach the border soon, and that no one had ventured past the border after him.

* * *

Francis Bonnefoy fretted. He fretted far too much for his own good. Matthew peered over the top of the book he was currently studying to look at his friend wearing the carpet thin under his incessant pacing. He often reminded Matthew of a mother hen. Stern and clucking one minuet, but caring and soft under it all. The object of his worry still didn't seem to be making an appearance anytime soon. Francis' long hair swished backwards and forward, coming loose from his side plait as he paced. For someone who often prided himself on his appearance he looked a bit of a mess. Wearing the same clothes from yesterday and with bare feet, he paced backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.

"Please stop doing that, you're making me feel tired"

The comment was directed from the Spaniard lounging across the chaise in the corner. Emerald eyes shining out of the gloom.

Francis turned in fury at Antonio. "This is all your fault you insensitive imbecile!"

Antonio shrugged his shoulders in dismissal.

Matthew didn't like it when Francis and Antonio fought. Though they fought often, they were still the strongest of friends. Whenever they fought Matthew would always think 'this is it, this will be the last one'. But they always seemed to make do and mend. Matthew thought the waistcoat incident would have been the end of it several years back. When Antonio had 'borrowed' and shredded Francis favourite silk waistcoat. Their fight almost burnt the mansion in which they resided to the ground, and they refused to speak for almost a year. But then there had been a battle to fight and there they were back in each other's good graces as though no time had passed at all. Which for vampires who live for hundreds of years, there probably hadn't.

"Why is he still so sensitive over who he eats anyway?" Antonio protested. "He's been a vampire as long as any of us, except of course for you Matthew."

Matthew, who by vampire standards was still pretty young, ignored the pair of them, choosing to immerse himself in his book.

"Why does he have to be so difficult?"

"Who? Matthew?" Francis cried indignantly

The vampire in question carried on reading.

"Nooo. Arthur. Why is he so difficult?"

Francis harrumphed in dismay. "E'is sensitive, you know this."

"Sensitivity is a wasted emotion on a vampire. No offence Matthew."

Still Matthew refused to look up.

"I mean, why does he think he's so special? Why does, He, think Arthur is so special? And Arthur is weird anyways, he does nothing but stare into space and daydream, talking to his imaginary friends. I mean can you believe it, a vampire who still believes in make believe, like unicorns and flying bunnies are real!?"

"That is besides the point Antonio. You should not have picked on him."

Antonio raised his hands in disbelief.

"The man was looking dreadful, so I told him to go take a bite out of the scullery maid. What was the harm in that? Surely he should have thanked me for looking out for his ungrateful backside, when he clearly was not!" The Spaniard looked guiltily at the wall. "And he didn't have to storm off did he?"

"You know what it is like trying to tell Arthur to do something, yes? You know that it is not in 'is nature to take help from us. E' will take it as an insult to 'is repute, and you know this very well which is why you said it to begin with."

Antonio muttered something about Arthur and Francis both needing to get laid every once in a while.

Matthew was now reading thin air, as Francis had grabbed the nearest missile which happened to be his book, and launched it at Antonio's head. Francis smiled at the loud thwack as leather binding found vampire skull. Matthew cringed at the thought of the book's now broken spine. Sighing to the inevitability of being caught up in yet another argument over Arthur, Matthew folded his hands in his lap and waited.

"You understand nothing!" Francis roared at the outraged Spaniard. "What do you s'ink, E', will do when E' realises Arthur crossed the boundary, and could at this precise moment be dog chowder?"

"Well if you're so worried about the blithering idiot amongst a rabid pack of wolves, then why aren't you going after him then?"

"Because we can't 'ave two vampires crossing the boundary in the space of a day! It would be as if we were instigating war. Again!" Many French profanities escaped his lips. Matthew who had been learning French from Francis for a few years now marvelled at their complexity and imagery.

"What do you think, E', will do to us if E' knew that we let 'im walk away?"

Silence fell in the room, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the hallway outside. The weight of having lost their master's favourite vampire slowly dawning on them. Matthew looked expectantly up at Francis.

"What would, He, do to us?"

Francis rushed to Matthew's side and threw a comforting am around his protégé.

"Not to worry my 'feuille d'érable'. I did not mean what I said." He tucked Matthew's head beneath his chin, reassuring the young vampire. "I will not let any 'arm come to you."

Antonio swung off the Chaise, scooping up the fallen book in the same movement. He gave Matthew a cheeky grin.

"You know Francis is full of hot air don't you Matthew?"

The Spaniard flopped down on the other side of the vampire, holding out the book to the boy.

"I wouldn't trust anything he says. Arthur will be back soon. Making scathing comments and driving us all crazy with his imaginary friends." He winked at Matthew as he took back the book.

Caressing the spine of the book, loving the feeling of soft leather under his fingers, Matthew murmured his agreement.

Over the top of Matthews head the Frenchman and Spaniard's eyes met, understanding blooming between the two of them. There was at least this one thing that they could agree on. If Arthur didn't return, and return soon, it would be down to the two of them to protect the young vampire against their master's wrath.


End file.
